


Whispered Echoes

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can rattle off a plethora of random information about Phil - his pant size, his favorite Thai dish, the name of his boyhood pet cat, the exact number of vintage comic books he has in storage, and much more - but has no idea when they met or how long they’ve known each other.  </p><p>Clint loses his memory and gains so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispered Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> For the amnesia square on my trope_bingo card.

“You need to come back to New York," Fury says as soon as the call is connected. "It's Barton."

Phil doesn't take the time to gather up his things or explain anything to the team. He hands Melinda the phone and walks out of their temporary base of operations without a backward glance. Phil will always be, first and foremost, Clint Barton's handler. 

Within two hours of getting the call from Fury, Phil is walking into Clint's room in SHIELD Medical. Fury and the Avengers are all standing around Clint’s hospital bed. Natasha’s position among the group - furthest away from Clint - gives Phil pause, but it’s the look on Clint’s face that tells him there is something very wrong.

Clint is scared, openly and unabashedly scared. Phil has only ever seen such naked emotion on Clint’s face once - a fleeting glance as Phil had opened his eyes for the first time since they went dark on the Helicarrier.

“Phil,” Clint cries plaintively and Phil automatically steps forward to take the hand that’s reaching out for him.

It doesn’t escape his attention that everyone is looking at them in various states of shock while Natasha turns her head away completely.

“Phil,” Clint says in relief once he’s gotten a hold of Phil’s hand.

“You know Agent Coulson - uh, Phil?” Bruce asks and Clint nods, leaning into and slightly behind Phil’s arm as he stands next to the bed.

“ _How_ do you know Phil?” Fury prods.

“I…” Clint’s grip tightens around Phil’s hand and he can feel Clint starting to shake with fear. “I don’t know.”

Phil squeezes Clint’s hand until the younger man meets his eyes. “Clint. It’s going to be all right. We’ll figure this out. You’re going to be fine.”

Clint swallows, eyes filled with unbridled trust, and nods again. “Okay, Phil.”

~^~

There is nothing physically wrong with Clint. According to the Avengers, one minute Clint had been protecting a group of civilians and the next, he was a heap on the ground. When Clint had woken, he had no memory of the Avengers or SHIELD.

They learn over the next few weeks that Clint remembers very few things about his life. Clint can still string, draw, and fire his bow with the same accuracy and precision as he’s famous for, but remembers nothing of his days at the circus. He knows he was born in Iowa, but can’t name his parents or recall having a sibling. He can fly the quinjet flawlessly, but looks at a rifle with nervous confusion when it’s placed in his hands. He can rattle off a plethora of random information about Phil - his pant size, his favorite Thai dish, the name of his boyhood pet cat, the exact number of vintage comic books he has in storage, and much more - but has no idea when they met or how long they’ve known each other. 

There is also no indication of what is causing this very selective amnesia or whether there is any hope of it reversing. Clint, being Clint, does his best to keep moving forward. SHIELD won’t put him back in the field, but Clint still technically has level seven clearance. Phil plays a hunch and shows Clint a file on a new mission that the analysts are putting together. He isn’t surprised when Clint proceeds to poke several holes in the plan and makes very insightful suggestions for improvement. It’s like having a very well trained, yet completely fresh and unbiased set of eyes. The analysts love him.

Fury has agreed that it’s for the best to let Phil manage his team remotely until they get a handle on what’s going on with Clint. Phil gets in the habit of driving from his apartment to the Tower each morning for breakfast and then driving with Clint down to HQ. On a morning much like the others, he walks into the kitchen to find Clint making french toast.

“Good morning,” Phil greets and eagerly takes some toast off the huge pile that Clint has stacked on the counter. Clint's french toast, something he often made on long missions, is legendary at SHIELD. 

“Morning. Better get your seconds while you’re at it,” Clint warns, “Thor, Steve, and the others will probably be down soon.”

Phil takes another two slices and sits at the table, smiling in thanks when Clint slides a perfectly made cup of coffee across to him. 

“So hey,” Clint says as he sits. “I apparently know every line to all three Star Wars movies. Guess it goes with along my having ‘The Hobbit’ memorized.”

Phil doesn’t tell him that he’d gotten Clint the book during the first Christmas he’d been at SHIELD or that Clint had first seen the movies with Barney while they were still with the circus. 

“You know there are six movies now,” Phil points out, already knowing the response he’ll get. 

“Blasphemy!” Clint retorts with a grin and takes an overly large bite of his french toast.

Phil takes his own bite and hums in satisfaction. “And you still remember how to cook.”

Clint blinks in surprise, but any further thoughts on the unexpected revelation is overtaken by the other Avengers loudly entering the kitchen.

A few days later, Phil spends the afternoon consulting with Dr. Banner in his lab, goes up to the common floor for some coffee, and stumbles upon Clint and Natasha snuggled together on one of the couches.

“I’m sorry that it hurts you that I’m like this,” Clint says softly, “that I’m not him.”

“It’s not...you’re not…” Natasha trails off with a sigh of frustration. 

Phil knows that the two of them are closer than siblings, but that most of their communication is unspoken. That they actually have to converse using words must be difficult for them - or at least for Natasha.

“You’re still…” Natasha continues, “this you was always there, just hidden. It took you a long time to show it to me.”

“But I’m still hurting you,” Clint persists.

“You’re not, not really,” Natasha replies. “It’s me. I... I don’t like seeing you vulnerable and I don’t know how to protect you from this.”

There’s a rustle of movement and Phil knows from experience that Clint has pulled Natasha close to his chest and is resting his cheek against her hair.

“Maybe you don’t need to protect me this time,” Clint whispers. “Maybe you can just be my friend.”

Natasha’s voice, when she eventually answers, is full of unspoken emotion. “Yes. Yes, I can do that.”

The discussion with Natasha seems to be a turning point for Clint. He spends more time getting to know the other Avengers, reacquainting themselves with old friendships. If Clint’s laughter rings out more freely and more often around the Tower, nobody comments.

Phil really shouldn’t be surprised at the quiet knock on his door one evening. 

“Um, hi,” Clint says when Phil opens the door. He rubs the the back of his neck with a sheepish smile and a light blush staining his cheeks. “I didn’t realize until just now that I should have called first. If you’re busy, I can -”

“I’m not busy. Come in,” Phil replies, opening the door wider so that Clint can slip inside his apartment. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll grab us a couple of beers.”

Clint smiles up at him as Phil hands him a beer and sits next to him on the couch.

“Do you always keep your fridge stocked with my favorite beer?” Clint asks once Phil is settled.

Phil startles a little and then it’s his turn to smile sheepishly. “Not lately, no. I’ve mostly been coming to the Tower, but I…”

“Assumed I’d be coming by?” Clint finishes.

“Not consciously,” Phil says honestly, “but I guess I was waiting for my turn.”

Clint nods. “I get the feeling I wasn’t much of a communicator before all this. Nobody’s come right out and said anything, but they all seem surprised that I’m talking now.”

“You’re really not that different, Clint,” Phil tells him. “Just less...guarded.

“Yeah, maybe,” Clint agrees before taking a long pull of his beer and then setting it down on a coaster. “Maybe I’ve finally decided that it’s time to stop leaving everything unsaid.”

“Clint…” Phil starts to say and then stops when he realizes that he doesn’t know if he wants to protest or encourage whatever Clint is about to say next. 

Clint must sense his indecision because he keeps talking while he stares down at his beer. 

“All the stuff I do remember - shooting my bow, flying, cooking… you - it’s everything that makes me happy. Everything I love. I… I think it means something.”

“It does mean something,” Phil responds softly.

Clint turns to Phil with sad, confused eyes and it makes Phil’s heart clench in his chest. “But we’re not… Why? Did I do something -”

Phil shifts forward quickly and takes Clint’s hands in his. “No Clint. You didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t either. We’ve never… It was complicated for so long and I think we got to the point where it was easier not to try.”

“But I remember you,” Clint counters, “and you dropped everything to come to me. I think I’m in love with you.”

“Yes,” Phil replies, somehow putting a wealth of admission into one word.

Clint smiles and starts to lean forward, but Phil stops him with a hand to his chest and a shake of his head.

“Why not?” Clint frowns. “Because I’m too much like him or not enough?”

“I already told you that you’re not that different,” Phil answers. “If we do this, I want you to know why you love me and not just because you remember you should.”

Clint smiles happily and reaches up to grip Phil’s hand where it rests on his chest. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Phil,” Clint says patiently. “Through all of this, you have been my constant, my rock. I’ve never for once doubted that you cared about me and would support me no matter what happened. I may not remember it, but I _know_ you’ve always been that for me. With or without my memories, I love you. I think I always will.”

“I love you, Clint,” Phil finally says, the words lifting a weight that Phil didn’t realize existed. He doesn’t try to stop Clint when he uses their joined hands to pull Phil closer.

“Don’t you think we should make some new memories?”

This time, Phil leans into the kiss.

~^~

Months pass and they slide into a new normalcy. Clint still works with the analysts, but starts sparring and training with the other Avengers. Clint proves, once and for all, that he’s still the same Hawkeye when, despite not being officially cleared by SHIELD, he appears in the middle of a battle and acts like he never left. The Avengers, including Clint, all watch Fury warily when the director enters the debrief, but Nick says nothing as he hands Clint the signed reinstatement forms.

Phil goes back to working with his new team, but he makes more of an effort to stay local when he can. It takes less than a month for Clint to ruin Phil’s plans to slowly migrate his things to the Tower by coming right out and asking Phil to move in. There are still missions that keep them apart - it comes with the job - but they call and text when there would have been nothing but radio silence in the past. 

Everyone has stopped trying to keep Clint from learning about his past - he’s gotten too database savvy and has charmed JARVIS too much to really prevent it - but Clint doesn’t seem overly interested in what he no longer remembers. It’s a complete surprise when Clint makes an offhand comment one day at breakfast.

“Man, my life before must have really sucked for someone to take away my memories.”

Phil’s eyes snap up from where he’d been discussing an upcoming mission with Natasha. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Clint responds without looking up from his tablet. “Just reading an old mission report. The analysts think that old gang I was working for when you recruited me is acting back up.”

“No, Clint,” Phil insists. “What did you say about your memories?”

Clint looks up and shifts nervously when he realizes that everyone at the table now has their attention focused on him.

“Uh… that my life must have sucked for my memories to disappear.”

“No,” Natasha says. “You said that _someone_ took them away.”

“I did?” Clint asks, genuinely confused.

Steve turns to Thor with a scowl. “Could it be your brother playing at his old tricks?”

“It is possible,” Thor answers. 

“Magic would explain why the memory loss was so selective,” Bruce adds.

“Damn it!” Tony swears. “I’ll go pull up the old surveillance footage.”

Everyone files out of the room, leaving Phil and a very concerned looking Clint behind.

“You okay?” Phil asks softly, sliding over and wrapping his arm around Clint’s shoulders.

Clint leans into him and closes his eyes. “Do you really think it was Loki?” 

“Like Thor said, it’s possible,” Phil answers. “It’s better for us to know for sure versus not.”

“Okay,” Clint sighs and Phil gives his shoulders one last squeeze before they join the others.

The footage from just before Clint’s collapse doesn’t yield any additional clues until a movement out of the corner of his eyes catches Phil’s attention. 

“Wait. Stop. JARVIS, zoom in on the old lady in the corner, play it back about five seconds and slow it down,” Phil requests.

They watch as the little old lady Clint had just shielded with his own body from a nearby explosion stops and turns toward the archer. Her eyes are full of sad understanding when she brings her fingers up to her lips, blows a kiss toward Clint, and a small sparkle of light flies out from her fingertips.

“Ah!” Thor says. “You have been given a gift by a faerie.”

“A gift?!” Natasha asks incredulously.

“JARVIS, run -”

“Facial recognition and cross reference already completed, sir,” JARVIS interrupts before Tony can finish the command. “Her address on file with the DMV is on the screen now.”

It turns out that the old faerie, a Ms. Zephyr Anglewing according to her driver’s license, isn’t doing anything to hide. She opens her door and smiles brightly at the group of irate superheroes and Phil.

“Well, good morning,” Zephyr greets them.

Nobody responds at first, a little taken aback by the warm greeting.

“Ms. Anglewing, I’m Agent Phil Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division,” Phil eventually says. “These, as you probably know, are the Avengers. We’d like to speak with you, if you have a moment.”

“Of course!” Zephyr responds happily. “Please call me Zephyr. You’re the one who makes this kind young man so happy.”

Clint blushes and ducks his head as she hustles them all inside her apartment. 

“You’re a faerie?” Bruce asks once they’re all perched on various chairs and sofas and have assured Zephyr that none of them need tea.

“Yes,” she responds with a smile. “There are quite many of us living in the city.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I needed to know that,” Tony says, earning a glare and an elbow in the ribs from Steve.

“You bestowed a gift on our friend?” Thor prods gently.

“Why, yes,” Zephyr answers with a kind, sympathetic smile toward Clint. “He was very brave to protect me and his soul so full of pain.” 

“You were trying to take my pain away?” Clint asks softly and the old woman nods.

“I’m afraid you took more than just his pain,” Natasha tells her. “You took most of his memories along with it.”

“Oh!” Zephyr cries with alarm. “I never intended any harm.”

“We know, dear faerie,” Thor assures her. 

“But we’d appreciate it if you gave his memories back,” Steve adds.

Zephyr turns to study Clint before speaking. “Are you sure that’s what you’d like? You seem… content.”

“I…” Clint turns to Phil, who has stayed silent throughout the exchange. 

“It’s your decision, Clint,” Phil says. “You already know that we’ll all stand behind you even without your memories and, whatever you decide, it won’t change us.”

Clint swallows heavily before turning back to the faerie. “I know you were trying to help. There’s a lot of my past I know I don’t want to relive, but there is so much more I don’t want to forget. Just because the memories are painful doesn’t always make them bad and part of living is taking the ups with the downs.”

“If you’re sure?” she asks and steps over to where Clint is sitting.

“I’m sure,” Clint answers. “Thank you.”

Zephyr leans forward and kisses Clint’s forehead, another small sparkle of light appearing as her lips brush against his skin. Clint blinks and then blinks again, holding back sudden tears that the others pretend not to notice.

“I think I would like some tea,” Bruce announces and everyone sweeps into the kitchen with Zephyr in tow.

Phil gathers Clint into his arms and holds tight as the younger man struggles to control himself.

“Barney,” Clint whispers into Phil’s shoulder, voice cracking on the name.

“I know, Clint, I know,” Phil soothes and rubs slow circles over the archer’s back.

They stay like that for several minutes until Clint is comfortable enough to raise his head. He looks at Phil with eyes no less intense than they have been for the past few months.

“I love you, Phil,” Clint says.

Phil smiles and swipes the last of Clint’s tears away with his thumb. 

“I know, Clint. I love you, too.”

_fin_


End file.
